To All Our Time Apart
by riboflavinB2
Summary: A planet unknown to the galaxy. A power unknown to its wielder. Calla Abolithe is a hunter to her tribe and daughter to her chief. Except that her planet has an unusual but powerful secret, and it will garner the attention of the First Order. Calla is now thrust into a war between the Light and Dark Sides, and she doesn't care which side helps her get her vengeance. (OCXKyloRen)
1. Chapter 1

*A/N: This story was started like right after The Force Awakens was released. I have not seen The Last Jedi - been too busy with vet school. So this is an AU. Writing begins before Starkiller Base was a thing yet. Forgive me if any of the information is totally wrong... like I said, I haven't actually watched anything after TFA! If you want more, please review. My time is a little limited right now so I won't bother posting more if there's no want for it!*

Calla Abolithe drew an arrow from her quiver, nocking it against her bow and pulling back on the string. She aimed at her target - the ororaan was grazing in the nearby meadow, completely unaware of Calla's presence. She breathed deeply, and as she exhaled, she released the arrow. It flew through the air, whizzing past the trees that disguised Calla, and flying into the ororaan's chest. The sudden impact startled the ororaan, and it tried to flee the danger. But it was already too late. It was a perfect shot, like magic; the ororaan was dead in minutes.

"Looks like I've defeated you yet again, Vanan," Calla said, turning to the man behind her. She had killed one more animal that day. One more serving of meat for her tribe.

"Yeah, yeah. I think you're just lucky," he said with a smile on his face.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. It's all skill. Skill you've yet to acquire."

"Yeah, yeah. You can gloat when you wield a sword like I can." Vanan rolled his eyes at her confidence, even if on some level, he was certain it was true. Vanan knew Calla was an extremely accomplished hunter in the tribe. She had this way with her arrows, almost like she could will them into her targets. It didn't matter if a strong wind blew the arrow off course, the arrow somehow found its mark. Her fellow members of the tribe attributed this characteristic to her bloodline. As the daughter of the chief, she had started training younger and harder than the rest, always looking to prove herself to her people.

Vanan and Calla walked to the ororaan's corpse as another member of their hunting party - a young boy named Brocah - pulled a cart behind him. They lifted the kill together, depositing it onto the cart next to the other kills of the day.

When they were finished, Calla looked upon the cart with an approving glance. "Could be worse, eh? We should head back now. Nightfall is on its way." She pointed to the sun, which was nearing the horizon of the large meadowed clearing dangerously.

Brocah nodded. He was a quiet boy; she'd only heard him speak a handful of times. Calla always thought him more suited to healing or studying instead of more physical pursuits, but his father was the "Great Loni," famed for his unparalleled skill in hunting. When Brocah asked her father for a hunting apprenticeship, he could hardly deny the boy.

They walked towards their tribe, towards the busy sounds of their families. Calla sighed, thinking of the bustling village and wishing she could ignore all of her responsibilities and live out in the forest where it was quiet and cold. The waning sun cast an ethereal glow along the forest floor. Small animals roamed between the trees, scurrying from the vibrations of the hunting party's boots hitting the mossy terrain. Flecks of fuzzy white insects floated down from the treetops, occasionally catching in Calla's dark blonde hair. She walked beside Vanan, their hands so close they could almost be touching. Brocah followed behind, eager to please them as he towed the cart. That was another thing she liked about Brocah. He never questioned Calla and Vanan's relationship; he let them be. It was common knowledge that the two hunters would be married soon. It was arranged from their births, not that Calla had ever minded. They were always friends, respected each other, encouraged a bit of fun between each other. They were a fine match, she thought. She probably wouldn't want to be married to anyone else. She certainly couldn't imagine kissing anyone else, that was for sure. "You look like you're pondering something important," Vanan said."Just wondering if the ororaan's antlers would look better above my bed or my hearth," she smiled. Vanan laughed, his green eyes crinkling around the rims. "A true dilemma," he said through laughs. He took the opportunity to shuttle his hand into hers, pulling her closer to him. He whispered in her ear, "If I might offer my opinion, chief? I think it would look better above a bed...our bed." Calla pushed him away and feigned an expression of appall. He laughed yet again. Calla walked back to Brocah. "I'll take the cart for a while. You can have Vanan teach you some tracking basics."Brocah nodded, passing along the cart to the chief's daughter. She picked up the handles and walked on, listening to Vanan's lessons and occasionally offering her own advice when Vanan's suggestions were less than helpful. He was a great tracker, but he was a tall, strong man. Brocah had a smaller body, like Calla. She might be able to give better advice in that regard. Less than an hour later, the sun had begun to set, lighting the sky in purples and pinks. Calla, Vanan, and Brocah had reached the edge of their village, the brown roofs greeting them like always. The cart bounced over dirt walkways as they approached the butcher.

"Brocah, feel free to go home. You did well today. We'll teach you how to shoot tomorrow."

Ever the talkative adolescent, he gave a final nod and parted from Calla and Vanan.

"I'm beginning to wonder if he can even speak," Vanan said as soon as the boy was out of earshot.

"At least he won't scare away the prey with his pratter. Unlike like some men I know."

"That's hardly fair. Personally, I think I charm all the prey so they remain close to me."

"Well, personally," she teased, "I couldn't think of a less charming man." She passed one of her father's counselors and nodded in a greeting to him. "Counselor Consulo," she said. The man was old and gray, but always had a spring in his step. Calla thought he looked ready for his next, and perhaps his last, adventure.

"Good evening, Miss Calla. Vanan. I see your hunt was successful."

"Fortunately, we didn't have to venture far."

"I'm glad. Have a pleasant night, Miss Calla," he said. Calla smiled.

At the butcher, they unloaded their kills, stacking them with the few other animals that other parties had brought back earlier than them. The butcher thanked them for their work and sent them on their way, baskets of carved meat and fish now in their hands.

"Well, Vanan. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow. We'll hunt beyond the meadow. Maybe track something a bit bigger than an ororaan? To give Brocah a bigger target, I mean." She waggled her eyebrows.

"Of course. All for Brocah's sake. Certainly not because you want a little adventure?" He paused. "To our time together," Vanan initiated the farewell common in their culture, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"And to all our time apart," Calla finished, clapping her own hand on Vanan's shoulders. Vanan smiled and winked, leaving her to walk home.

The Abolithes lived in the center of the village. The other buildings radiated from the chief's in concentric circles. Calla didn't always enjoy being in the center of it all, but she also knew it was inevitable. Her destiny was to lead her people. And leaders do not live out in the forest, miles away from those they've sworn to protect.

She had barely entered the door before she felt small arms around her waist, embracing her. The girl was strong and the move had taken her by surprise. Calla almost fell backwards at the sudden force.

"Althea!"

Her sister was much younger than her. Separated by sixteen years. Her parents had tried to have a second child for so long; her mother had desired it so greatly that she prayed for the Force to deliver one to her every night. She had gotten her wish, but paid for it with her life.

Calla felt like more than a sister to Althea. She'd partially raised her. Became her best friend.

"Calla!" She buried her face into Calla's abdomen, squeezing until it hurt.

"Yes, I made it home. Just like always, Althea." Calla rolled her eyes.

When she drew back, Althea looked at Calla excitedly. "I learned a new form today! Teacher says I already do it perfect."

"Perfectly," she corrected. "You already do it perfectly." Althea shrugged. "Well, go on then! Show me," Calla said.

The younger sister stepped further into the room, to an open space, and began performing the form. Calla recognized it immediately - the sweeping arm motions, the gentle gliding of her feet along the floor. Althea had learned Wandoo, the fourth form. Her teacher had been right. She was doing it perfectly. Calla had often wondered if Althea would become a form teacher herself one day since she always seemed to pick up the art so quickly.

Their forms were a sacred practice. The dances were a connection to the Force. It reminded her people that the Force's energy flowed through them all. They were all privy to the humbling power of the Force and had all learned the forms when they were younger as part of their schooling.

When she finished, Calla clapped. "Excellent Wandoo, Althea! It's probably better than mine, even."

"No way. You're always better."

Calla shook her head, and gently poked her sister on the forehead. "It took me three months to perform Wandoo. And I was probably three years older than you are now when I learned it. All your hard work at school is paying off."

Althea grinned from ear to ear. Calla gave her a pat on the cheek before heading further into her home, dropping off the meat in the kitchen to cook later. She wanted to speak to her father, knowing perfectly well it was that time of the year again. The time of year where her village communicated to the closest planet to learn all of the news in the galaxy. Since their planet's inception, they preferred simple lifestyles. All technological advances had been sacrificed for true peace, neutrality, and isolation. However, they had one communication device that was turned on for four hours once a year. Just to stay in touch.

She found her father pacing in his study. "Father?" she called. His face did not soothe the unease she felt. He looked somehow grayer, more wrinkly, than usual.

He looked at her. "Calla. You're here. Come in. Close the door."

She drew her eyebrows together, but she did as she was told. "What is it?"

"Nothing to worry about," he said, struggling to smile. Of course, Calla was not convinced. "I spoke to the ambassador. Their crops are hearty and their people are well."

"And?" She didn't really care if their people were well. Millions on their planet. Of course they were well.

"The ambassador expressed some concern over a new enemy in the galaxy. Political unrest involving a small faction known as the First Order." He stopped pacing, preferring now to sit in his armchair. "They're dangerous, Calla. They want to bring down the New Republic. And they use violence to get there."

"And why would this matter? We're not affiliated with any government. Most people don't even know we exist. This 'First Order' should want nothing to do with us," Calla said.

Her father looked away. She still had much to learn about leading their tribe. Protecting them should always be at the forefront of her mind. Considering all possible threats to their peace, even the least likely of those possibilities, was part of being a leader.

"You are too young to remember the Galactic Empire. My father told me of its creation, its rise to power. They always seek allies in the forgotten. And they will always view us as the forgotten."

"We prefer it that way. Don't they know that?"

"They don't care. Power is all that concerns them."

Calla edged closer to her father, kneeling before him. "Why do you fear them? They won't want anything to do with us when we deny their requests."

He licked his lips. "People like that don't like rejection." He turned from her gaze yet again, this time his eyes glancing towards the window. He looked into the darkness, like he was searching for something. No, like he was hiding something.

"Calla."

"Yes, Father?"

He suddenly turned back to her. His brown irises blazing into her own, lighting her on fire. "If they come, you'll need to leave. Take Vanan and Althea and run as far away as possible. To the Basha monument. Maybe even further. I will send someone to get you when it's safe."

"What? Why? No, I won't. My place is with you. I won't cower from their threats."

"Calla, you don't understand. There are things about your mother, about your abilities, that you don't know. You have to trust me. If you see them here, you must run. It's for your safety. For our safety," he asserted. He was right. Calla did not understand in the slightest. She was an Abolithe. A future chief. How could she simply abandon her people? And why would her presence endanger anyone in the village? What did her mother or her "abilities" have to do with any of that?

Her father did not allow her to ask those questions, but instead placed a hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't be ordering you to do this if it wasn't important. You can't be in this village if they come," he repeated. He seemed to think she understood that time, but she still didn't. "You have to promise me, Calla. Give me your word that you will follow my direction."

His face was so stern. She hadn't seen him look this way since he was calmly explaining that her mother had died.

His expression was somehow serious and sad and terrified all at once. There was something in the way his hand desperately clung to her shoulder that made her nod. She would listen to her father, even if she didn't understand why he would demand this of her.

She placed her hand on her father's, feeling his rough and unrefined skin. She squeezed it. "I promise," she said.

"Good," he said. "Let us pray that day never comes."

"It won't." She offered a reassuring smile, but what did she know?

She removed her hand from his, and he dropped his arm from her shoulder. "What else did the ambassador say?" she asked.

He told her in detail all of the information the ambassador relayed. Mostly, it carried little weight on her people. It didn't concern her tribe if there was a new senator, or if a far off planet had changed their economic system. They were a self-sufficient people, untouched by the tainted policies of graceless governments. They ruled with gentle mercy in a small society where everyone had a role to play. It had worked for hundreds of years, and they were not quick to change it.

When he finished speaking with her, he told her that he wouldn't be present for their meal tonight. He had to speak with the council about the news from the ambassador. She would eat with Althea and go to bed.

They ate creel fish and Althea recounted her day with excited chirps. Calla smiled and proffered responses when she felt it was appropriate, but truthfully, she wasn't listening. She was thinking about the First Order. She wondered what they believed in, why they felt their ideologies were special enough to disturb peace over them. What did they look like? Were they fearsome?

She imagined a group of old men with white hair sitting around a large stone table discussing politics. Every so often one of the men would become angry and would slam his fist against the stone. She imagined herself at the table, trying to convince them that peace was always the better choice. Diplomacy would save them all, exactly as her father taught her.

She helped Althea trade her tunic for nightclothes, and tucked her into bed. Her sister asked for a bedtime story, but Calla denied her one. "I'm too tired," she said. "It's been a long day. How about an extra special one tomorrow night? One about Mother?"

Althea pouted, but she obliged. Her poor sister had never met her mother, so calm and so wise. Sometimes it was painful for Calla to recall the memories, even if she had been six years since she died. She saved small stories about her to bribe her sister, and it always worked. Maybe slightly manipulative, but Calla did what she had to do.

Calla turned off Althea's lantern and kissed her goodnight. "To our time together," Calla said, pulling the blankets over her sister's chest.

"And to all our time apart," she replied.

* * *

The next morning, Calla woke with the rising sun. She slid out of bed and changed into her usual outfit. Leather pants, leather bodice, green tunic, leather armguard for her bow. It blended in so well with the forest flora, camouflaging her body. Vanan's garb was similar. They hardly engaged in whimsical colors like many of the other tribesmen. Only on special occasions did Calla agree to wear pastel dresses. She left her hair in her normal style. Freely falling down her back, save for the small plait near her face just to keep the hair out of her eyes. She woke up Althea and got her ready for the day before they both ate their morning meals. Their father greeted them in the kitchen, planting small kisses on the tops of their heads before heading out the door to meet with other tribesmen.

"Are you ready to go, Althea?"

"Mmhmm," she replied, her last bite of porridge in her mouth preventing her from speaking. Calla grabbed her satchel, bow, and quiver, and threw them around her shoulders as Althea mimicked her motions with her own, slightly smaller, satchel.

They walked, in-step, to the school. Children of various ages were walking in, usually unaccompanied by their parents. Their tribe was safe. Children could roam freely, day or night, as long as the wild beasts of the forests stayed far away. And they usually did.

Calla spotted Vanan in her peripherals. He waited for her by the mason's workshop with an odd expression on his face. He was studying her, like she was somehow a completely different person. She wanted to shout profanities at him and tease him for his strange expression, but that would hardly be appropriate in the village. It would have to wait until they were isolated in the forest.

Before Calla even had the chance to say goodbye to her sister, Althea had already slipped away into the building. Calla let her go, watched her little golden hair bounce as she ran inside.

For some reason, she felt uneasy. Maybe because Althea was growing up and wouldn't need her as much anymore? Maybe the Force was telling her it wouldn't be a good hunting day?

She waved away the inauspicious feeling and headed towards Vanan.

* * *

Only parsecs away, Commander Kylo Ren stood beside General Hux in a dark room aboard their newest addition to the First Order, a Battlecruiser deemed the Finalizer. Before them, Supreme Leader Snoke appeared in hologram-form. Snoke hated the hologram system on the ship, but its corridors were not large enough to host his desired height. The small likeness would have to work until he could find somewhere more suited to his personal tastes. Which was exactly why he had called Kylo and Hux together.

"Open the galactic map," Snoke ordered.

With a casual glance to Kylo, Hux did as he was instructed. The map opened around the men, the lights streaming from a small orb in the center of the table. The galaxy was immense, until it zoomed in. Closer and closer. To one planet.

"What are we looking at?" Kylo Ren asked, his voice highly mechanized through his mask.

"A primitive dwarf planet on the very outskirts of the galaxy. It is largely unknown by the whole of the galaxy, and its residents prefer it that way. With a population of less than a thousand and its large supply of kyber crystals underground make it a perfect base of operations. You're tasked with conquering the planet for the First Order."

Snoke was right. Neither Kylo or Hux had heard of this planet before. How had it escaped constant threats from those desiring the power of the kyber crystals?

"And its inhabitants?" General Hux asked the next logical question. He was ever the strategist.

"Offer them a chance to join our cause. When they don't accept - and they won't - kill them all," Snoke said.

That was all General Hux needed. He curtly nodded, absolutely prepared to carry out Snoke's order. He was a dutiful soldier, an attribute which Snoke had always admired. His young apprentice, however, took a bit more convincing, a bit more prodding and luring. Kylo liked to know what he was doing and why he was doing it. His questioning, though sometimes tiring to Snoke, was what initially drew Snoke to his apprentice. Those who question can be swayed, influenced, and manipulated.

"Why is a planet with a large supply of kyber crystals untouched?" Kylo asked, as Snoke knew he would.

"Before the Jedi Order fell, a small faction of their ranks disavowed their traditions. They refused to believe that the Force belonged to anyone. They thought it was wrong to hoard the Force. Thus, they colonized a planet with a strong connection to the Force and worked hard to erase themselves from any archives. Most, like Emperor Palpatine, did not know of its existence. Only a select few with a respect for the Force can find faint references to it in Jedi archives," Snoke said.

"References that you found?"

Snoke could have smiled if he was capable of it. The planet stirred old memories in Snoke, memories of a woman gained and lost. She would have been so upset to know he was about to annihilate her people. They would have argued about it, and he would have laughed at her asinine behaviors.

"Long ago, yes. I came across it," he paused, the glimmer of his smile completely faded. Underneath it spawned something much more sinister. "And now it will make an excellent Starkiller Base."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Brocah hadn't landed a single arrow on the target. Calla wasn't that surprised. It took practice and diligence.

When he seemed to get frustrated and Calla saw his focus waning, Vanan swooped in and took away his bow. "You'll get it, Broc. Just takes time is all. Besides, you've got the best teachers in the tribe."

Calla cleared her throat. "I think you mean best teacher. Just one."

Vanan laughed. "Yeah, she's right. I am a better archer than her, Brocah."

Calla responded to that with a punch aimed at Vanan's shoulder.

She was glad he had brightened up since earlier in the morning when he stared at her in the village. The same expression had continued in the forest later when Calla divulged all that her father had told her the night before about the First Order. He looked worried, and Calla tried her best to reassure him that they would never be in danger of such extremism.

"That's enough training for the morning," Calla said. Brocah nodded, all evidence of frustration seemingly gone from his face. "We should head over the hill where the prey hasn't heard us romping around yet."

They waded through the meadow's tall grasses once Brocah had packed away the target in his pack. They all had to be quiet now, the more noise they made, the less likely they would be coming home with any game that night.

Meadow gave way to large pine trees that seemed to stretch to the heavens. They had barely moved into the forest when Calla heard gentle lapping sounds nearby. Vanan heard them too, as he gestured with his head to move towards the noises. All three of them tiptoed closer as a growtow dipped its enormous trunk into a small stream that intersected the woods.

Calla thanked the Force for the gracious offer. Growtows weren't easy to come by these days since most of them fled to the opposite edge of the planet. Though they could sense vibrations in the ground, their inability to hear audible sounds gave them an extreme disadvantage with predators, and their numbers had dwindled in the previous years.

Calla almost felt sadness when she nocked an arrow into place. She didn't want to hunt the species to extinction, but she also knew that their delicious flesh could feed an entire family for two meals. Maybe it was the growtow's fault for venturing too close to the tribal village.

She pulled back on the string of the bow as far as she could and aimed for the growtow's weakest point - it's large eye protruding from its tough skin. Vanan and Brocah watched her focus, noticing how each skin follicle twinged with excitement. Calla was born for hunting.

She breathed in deeply. On her next exhale, she would release the arrow like it was an extension of herself. She pictured it puncturing the growtow, using every ounce of her will to imagine her prey dead beneath her feet.

She began her exhale, but before her arrow was released, the growtow bolted down the shoreline and escaped their grasps.

"What the hell!" Calla exclaimed, dropping her bow. There was no use firing if she couldn't hit the weak spot. "What happened? Who moved?" Calla turned to her boys. The growtow must've felt vibrations from one of them since she knew she was as silent as possible.

"No one moved!" Vanan replied. "Something else must've spooked it."

"What then?"

They didn't need an answer.

A sound ten times louder than thunder resounded over their heads. They all looked upwards. A large shadow moved over them.

She reasoned what it could be...a starcraft. A starcraft on their planet?

Calla took off running, leaping over the stream and bounding up their hill. Three more ships boomed through her planet's atmosphere as she galloped to a small patch of treeless forest closer to the top of the hill. She was faintly aware of Vanan running behind her, shouting her name.

They were bigger than she imagined. She'd barely seen technology in her life save for the harmless images in her tribe's archives, but this was terrifying. Massive. And it looked anything but friendly.

Was this...the First Order?

No, it couldn't be. Not that quickly.

"Calla!" she finally heard. Vanan was yanking on her arm and pleading with her to listen to him. Brocah followed closely behind him.

"Vanan, we have to go back to the village! I need to get Althea and we need to get away from the others!" Calla called expecting him to already understand.

"No, Calla. We have to go. Now. You can't be anywhere near them when they touch ground."

"I'm not leaving Althea. Father told me to take her and you and flee. I've got you, I just need her."

"No. We need to go now."

"I'm not leaving her," Calla pleaded with him. She didn't mean to sound so vulnerable, so worried, but after seeing the size of those ships, she couldn't help but be scared of the First Order's threat.

"Calla. Your father visited me last night. Told me everything. We thought we had more time. But we didn't. And then he ordered me to make sure you didn't go back to the village for Althea if it came down to it."

"What?" she asked. Why was he so calm?

"It's come down to it, Calla. We have to go. She'll be okay as long as you're not there."

Calla shook her head. She couldn't believe what Vanan was suggesting. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Althea," she started. But she never finished her thought. Vanan tugged on her arm and pulled her with him. When he was met with resistance from Calla, Brocah stepped in and pushed her from behind. She wondered if maybe her father had paid him a visit too.

She was about to give up on resisting them when they heard an explosion. The three of them stopped. Looked towards the village.

A dark cloud plumed in the horizon, billowing upwards and spreading infinitely. Calla's breath hitched in her throat.

She thought only of Althea and her father. She had to see if they were okay, make sure they were okay, confirm that of course they were okay.

Calla charged down the hill, ignoring the pain she felt in both her knees each time they hit the earth below her. She passed the stream and the meadow, vaulted over every rock or log or root in her way. As she ran, she pulled her bow off its place on her shoulder and did her best to fit an arrow in the notch of the wood. It was difficult, but she seemed to manage it. She propelled herself forward, still hearing Vanan behind her. And was that Brocah too?

When she neared the edge of the village, she heard screams. People-her people-were in pain. Were afraid. The smell of burning wood reached her nostrils and she began to beg the Force for Althea and her Father's safety.

She hopped on top of the boulder by old Jeni Urtor's home and surveyed the scene before her. Men in white suits of armor fired sophisticated machines. Beams of light emerged in streams from their blasters. Calla saw Counselman Consulo charging one of the plated soldiers with his largest axe. He didn't even make it halfway to the soldier before he was hit by a beam of light. Consula dropped immediately.

Calla fired the arrow quickly, willing it to find its target. It zoomed through the air and lodged itself into the soldier's neck.

Soon, she was firing more arrows at other white soldiers as Vanan joined her on the rock. He pulled out his bow and starting firing with her.

"Go, Calla! Get Althea and come back to me! We have to go!" he yelled at her.

"I'm not leaving our tribe! I'll get Althea and bring her to you. You get her somewhere safe!" Calla said in between blaster beams zooming past her.

Calla didn't give him a chance to reply. She leapt down from the boulder, weaving in between her people and the enemy. Her eyes were set squarely on the school in front of her. She had to get there. Had to get there and find Althea.

So focused was Calla that she didn't even notice the screaming woman barreling towards her from one of the sidestreets. The woman hit her from the side, knocking Calla completely off of her feet. Her head hit the dirt ground before she even processed what had just happened to her. She turned to her left, watching as the woman scurried away. Only, she didn't make it very far. A soldier ran behind her, taking her life as easily as pulling a trigger.

No time, Calla knew, to think about the woman's dying scream. Althea.

Kylo Ren looked on the village before them. Men and women released sounds from deep within their throats, sounds of true fear and confusion. He breathed in the scent of chaos.

This wouldn't take any time at all. A few artillery shells to the buildings and the whole planet would be cleared of these forgotten people.

His boots clunked on the metal floor of his ship as he sauntered out of it. Blasters were firing all around him, but he was less than concerned about one of them hitting him. He'd just deflect it with the Force.

When he reached solid ground, he felt it. The kyber crystals leaked through his boots and invigorated him. The Force. So powerful and intoxicating. He clenched his teeth as it bathed him, blissfully unaware of the cacophony around.

The moment passed as Kylo's focus centralized.

There were hardly any peaceful talks. A First Order official offered the man who identified himself as the "Chief" a very generous bargain. Their planet and their loyalty in exchange for their lives. But the Chief refused immediately. Their free will and the loyalty to each other was their lives, he said. And then an arrow appeared in the First Order official's neck.

As soon as he heard word, Hux commanded an attack and elimination of any on the planet. What was a few lost lives to the eventual Starkiller Base?

Calla rushed through the town. Althea was at the center. In the school. She was there, safe, waiting for her sister to pick her up. She put an arrow through any soldiers she saw. Her quiver was almost empty now. Only two left. She'd have to start collecting arrows from the attackers' bodies.

As she neared the school, Calla's adrenaline and hope swelled. She was so close to Althea she could almost feel it. She wanted nothing more than her sister's safety. Boot on dirt, boot on dirt. One foot springing in front of the other. She was almost there…

The smoke billowing from the tribal center was enough to know that hope was lost. The dark ashes swarmed the air just above where the school should be. Yet, Calla ran faster, jumping over and leaping around bodies of her friends and family who lay slain on the ground.

She skirted around the corner of Counselor Consulo's home, running into face first into the white armor of one of tribe's attackers. She bounced backwards, stumbling. The soldier lifted his blaster, but Calla was faster. Her arm swatted away the soldier's weapon, while she peeled her short knife from its sheath and thrust it towards his neck. When she jammed it into the tissue and muscle, blood poured from its entry and spat over her face. Calla used her weight to push past him and he fell to the ground behind her.

The starcraft had landed in the center of the tribe. Not a single building remained upright in the area. It was replaced by leaning planks of wood, fire, and smoke.

Her home was gone. Her life was gone. And most importantly, the school was gone.

It was too fast. The children might not have had time to flee. Althea could be safe, or she could be dead. Calla didn't care.

She clenched her teeth and surveyed the scene. Fifteen white soldiers stood around a starship. It's bay was opened and a man sauntered out. He was dressed in all black and wore a helmet like the men around him. But his helmet was different. It was somehow more faceless, more anonymous. He exuded power; Calla could feel it. He had commanded armies and killed many. She didn't know exactly how she knew, but she knew.

If she could do one last action in her life, it was taking down this man dressed in black. Her last cry for justice before the twenty other soldiers ended her life.

She reached back into her quiver, grabbed an arrow, and threaded it onto her bow. Amongst the hell, Calla breathed. She steadied her heart rate and invoked the Force to give her this one last kill.

She drew the arrow back and began willing it into this man. One breath. Exhale. Two breaths, and she would release the arrow and watch as it soared into his neck. He wouldn't even know what hit him.

She let the arrow go. And proceeded to pray it struck true.

Calla saw the man's helmet turn, look at her, tilt his head ever so slightly. He held out a hand to the arrow and it fell the the ground.

Calla didn't even bother processing the magic of that. She grabbed the last arrow from her quiver and drew her bow back. Much quicker this time

She begged the Force. Please, she called, just this one thing for my tribe.

The man's hand clenched.

And then Calla couldn't move. She tried and begged and cried for the Force to grant her this last wish.

The man edged closer. And closer. And Calla still could not move. A single tear spilled out of her eye and the man was close enough to see it. He tilted his head again, and it was the last thing that Calla saw. It all went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**_I finally watched The Last Jedi. Was not impressed that they made Hux look so weak! He seemed to be *sorta* on equal footing in the last movie, so that really surprised me. Oh well. He's still a dope-ass character in my head. And he's got a wife, named Reiny... but perhaps that's a story for another time?_**

Chapter Three

"Supreme Leader, I am having trouble seeing why we should keep this girl…" Hux said, head bowed down.

"Silence, General," Snoke commanded. He then fell silent, contemplating the situation and formulating a plan. Ren and Hux stood before the giant hologram of Snoke in the throne room aboard _Finalizer_. Rays of light peaked through Snoke's pixels, casting an eerie glow on his already pale skin.

After what felt like a little too long, Snoke spoke. "Though unplanned and unmandated, my young apprentice acted on instinct. As he had mentioned, he sensed the Force in this girl. If manipulated in the proper way, she could be a formidable ally. She is naiive - living on a planet so cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Showing her our plans for all people will convince her. She will see that First Order brings safety and security.

"And you, Kylo Ren, will receive an added benefit from her. There is an old saying where I am from, 'see one, do one, teach one." Through taking her on as an apprentice of sorts, you're own skill and connection to the Force can only improve. Begin with this task immediately, Apprentice."

When Snoke was finished, Kylo Ren nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Kylo. Bring her to me, first. I'd like to meet this Calla," Snoke called out after him. Kylo turned, bowed to his Supreme Leader, and left the throne room.

Hux and Snoke remained.

"Supreme Leader, I don't mean to question…"

Snoke interrupted him yet again, "Then don't, General. Keep an eye on this girl and Kylo Ren. Report to me his progress with her, or lack thereof. If she causes too much trouble and needs to be disposed of, then by all means, act accordingly."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"Now, go. I have other matters to attend to," he boomed, always with the slight tone of disapproval telling Hux that even doing well was not doing _well_. Snoke's hologram disappeared, and Hux exited the throne room.

* * *

"Calla…"

"Calla…"

Calla could hear the voice, but it was so far away. Like on a different planet. It was soft and womanly. But strong. Fierce. Full of fire.

It was dark, and cold. It felt like tiny droplets of mist were coating her skin. She heard water rushing, cascading.

"Calla, open your eyes," it said. Calla's eyes fluttered. She didn't even know her eyes had been closed.

As she opened her eyes, it revealed a great scene before her. Calla was standing on top boulder in a river. She knew the river well. She looked to her left, and there was the Basha monument. Rising high into the sky like a spire, its mossy rock surface had its hands reached out to the heavens.

"Calla," the voice said. It was clearer now, and Calla knew it was emanating from behind her. She turned.

A woman stood there. She was dressed in a shimmery white cloth that draped across her short figure so well that it seemed like the fabric would rather die than leave her body. Her dark hair was drawn up into curls on top of her head, not one out of place. Her skin was a gray color. It was ghostly, ethereal.

Calla was confused. "Who are you? Why are we here? Where is Althea?" Calla asked.

"My name is Tyla. I have been watching you for a very long time. And watching your mother before that," she said.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You're asleep, Calla. So I can communicate with you. In light of very recent events, I decided you needed my help before it was too late," Tyla said.

In light of recent events. Calla wasn't sure what that meant. What recent events?

"It's not important right now." Was she reading her mind? "You'll see soon. But we haven't much time," She said, and came closer to Calla on the rock.

She continued, "Your mother, Kerria, wanted to be here. But she didn't want to distract from what I'm about to tell you." Tyla paused again. "Calla, you're different than the others from our planet."

"I don't understand who you are. My mother?" she said. The confusion was setting in.

"My name is Tyla Romulun. I have been dead for many, many years. I used to live on this planet; I was a member of your tribe years before you were born. And I'm like you." she said.

"Like me?"

"Yes, Calla. Our tribe has always said that everyone is connected to the Force. That we are all privy to its power and peace. But you and I...and your mother…we were all born with a stronger attachment. The Force lets out more power through us."

"I don't understand."

Tyla came closer still.

"Your aim. In archery. Have you ever noticed that you can will an arrow to hit exactly where you want it to? Or that you're reaching for something on your top shelf that's just out of reach, and then you reach and reach, and it's suddenly in your hands?" she asked, almost conspiratorially. Calla nodded. "Other people in our tribe can't do that. It was just us. If our tribe of people hadn't broken away from the Republic when we did, they might have made us Jedi because of this special connection to the Force." Tyla stopped.

"Calla, I know it's hard to understand. But there are others with this special connection like we have. And they are going to want to reap your connection for themselves. And they're going to do it however they need to. So you need to learn one thing before you wake up," she said.

Calla still couldn't speak. She wasn't sure if could trust this dream, but it felt so real. And Tyla echoed questions that Calla had in her mind for so long, but never dreamed of asking. It would have been rude to discuss it with anyone in the tribe.

"It took me moons to learn this, but you have significantly less time than me. So I'm going to give you the secret. There's going to be someone who wants to hear your thoughts. And he can with his power in the Force," she said.

Calla noticed the edges of her vision were going darker. The sensation of water droplets on her skin was fading. Instead, it was being replaced with a metallic coldness.

"It's going to feel like someone is tugging at your mind. Don't resist it. Don't even try to notice it. The moment you start to resist or give it more attention, that's when…"

Tyla didn't get the chance to finish.

A loud whizzing sound woke Calla from her slumber suddenly. She jerked awake, trying to lift her body from the cold metal on her back. But she couldn't. Her arms were constrained to the reclined chair underneath her. She struggled in vain for a moment. She couldn't remember what was happening or where she was.

"Your struggle is futile," a mechanical, deep voice echoed from the room she was in. She glanced around her, searching. Amongst the violently bright lights and white metal walls, Calla spotted the figure. Dark and looming, the same man from before. The man who stopped her arrow in its tracks before the world went black. Masked and domineering, he inched towards her.

"You." Calla said, accusing. "Where are my people?"

"Dead," he answered back, his voice modified by his helmet.

Calla's heart stopped beating for a moment, lurching through her chest. She swallowed, but remembered she had no reason to trust this man.

Althea could still be out there. Her father, Vanan, Brocah - everyone could still be alive and well and just waiting for her to escape.

"What is your name?" the metallic voice buzzed through the air.

Calla scoffed. "You just told me my entire tribe is dead and you're asking me my name?"

"Yes. And you're taking it surprisingly well. Don't tell me you hated that tribe?"Calla squeezed her fists and pursed her lips. She dug her short nails into her palms, and wished to the Force that she had an arrow to plunge into this monster's heart.

"I see. Didn't hate them…" he paused, tilting his head to one side, considering something. "But you don't believe me when I say they're all dead."

Calla clenched her teeth.

"Holo-order, play vid 6686," the voice boomed.

Suddenly, a second mechanical voice vibrated from the walls. A screen appeared in front of the man and Calla, and it started to play a scene from a man's perspective. The man looked down, and Calla saw his white-plated boots stepping over bodies. Bodies of little Juni, his mother, and her mother before her. The boot kicked one. Calla saw Juni's face, covered in soot and pain, but completely still. The man looked up at the wasteland before him. Over the small fires and billowing smoke, Calla knew it was her home. And it was in shambles. The video showed the figure moving through the town's center, weaving in and around all the bodies. A couple of white-plated soldiers lay on the ground too, but the vast majority was her tribesmen. Her people.

She silently watched the horror before her. Her eyes stung with a hatred and a sorrow deep inside of her. Calla didn't dare let a tear escape. "Tears are for those who've stopped fighting," Vanan used to say. Tears were for moments unseen. Tears were for endings. And Calla wasn't letting this be her ending just yet.

"Holo-order, cease vid," the man said. The scene before her vanished. "Do you believe me now?" he asked.

Calla ignored his question. She suspected it was rhetorical, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"You're the First Order, aren't you? Even in my small, isolated corner of the galaxy, we were told of your unimaginable horrors."

The helmet tipped its head. "Now you know our names, so what is yours?" he asked.

"It matters very little that I tell you, seeing as how I'll be dead as soon as you have what you want from me," she said. "So, tell me what you want from me."

The figure reached up with both arms, clasped his helmet, and removed it. Air whooshed from beneath it, as the mask revealed a man with dark, curly hair and eyes of pure anguish and resentment. His jaw was a chiseled angle, his nose long, and his lips contorted in a constant sneer.

"We don't want anything from you," he said, putting the helmet to his side. His voice was rich and deep, and Calla understood why he hid it under a layer of mechanics. A voice like that doesn't scare, it soothes. "We want _you_ ," he continued.

"Me," she said, incredulously.

"Yes. You. Well, we just wanted your planet, and we attained that very simply. You were just a bonus."

"What could you possibly want with me? I am the daughter of the chief to a tribe that no longer exists. I have no standing or riches. No information. No power," she said, wiggling her arms subtly to see if there was any possible way to get out of the restraints.

"We're rich enough, informed enough," he said. "But you're wrong about the power. You have the Force strong within you."

Calla scoffed again. "The Force is strong in all of us. We are merely conduits of its power," she asserted, just as she had been taught, over and over again by her father and teachers.

"How terribly sad that you had to live with the thought you were just like everyone else. You weren't. You were stronger, better, more powerful than everyone in that village combined."

"You're wrong," she said. "I _was_ just like everyone else."

"No. I sensed it when you aimed that arrow at me. Your connection to the Force was guiding it to me. Your emotion was willing it into my heart, wanting very much to kill me for what I was doing to your tribe," he said. Calla tried to breathe though the anger. Had she felt this way just a day ago, she would have completed a form to calm herself down. But here she had little choice but to let it seethe.

"The First Order can help you. I can help you. You can be the powerful, special woman you were always meant to be." The man inched even closer still. Calla shrank farther away from him, attempting to put as much distance between them as she could with her current restraints. "It can start by telling me your name."

His head was so close to her now. Calla wanted to spit on him. To bite him. To yell at him until he shriveled into a small kintu shrimp. But then she thought of something even better.

In an instant, Calla withdrew her head as far back into the metal as she could, and then thrust it quickly and sharply into the monster's nose, making a small grunting noise.

He was clearly caught off-guard as he tumbled back from the force of the collision, cupping his nose with his hand and cursing to himself in Basic.

Calla was feeling proud of herself for causing him just a little pain, but if she knew what she'd just done, she would have probably regretted it.

The man exploded with rage. He dashed forward, grabbed her face with his gloved hands and clutched with a vice-like grip. His eyes, once full of anguish, were now full of utter hate.

"I wanted to be nice to you," he said. "I wanted to form an alliance. But I see you'll have to give me information about yourself the easier way."

The man's gaze became intent as he bore his dark eyes into Calla's. She began to feel an overbearing weight in her mind. It wasn't subtle, but like a hammer crashing into a brick wall. The discomfort turned into pain as the man knocked more and more of her brick walls down. She felt the urge to push him out. So she sat there, in pure futility, as she willed the man's thoughts out of her own privacy.

Calla had never experienced anything like this pain. It weazled its way into every neuron, setting her mind aflame. She felt him starting to sift through memories. Private times between her father and her, practicing their Forms as her mother watched. Private times as Calla waltzed into the tribal council and demanded a prisoner be released of his crimes for the sake of mercy. Private times as sat outside her parent's room, hoping that her mother would make it through this one last…

 _No._

Those thoughts were not for this mystery man. They were for Calla only. The man came across a very faint memory, barely holding on. Calla was standing on a boulder in the Basha River, listening to an ethereal woman speak…

 _Tyla._

She was sure the spirit told her something about this. Warned her that someone would be...tugging at her mind. What had Tyla told her to do?

The man continued to sift through memories. Calla was forced to make a decision. If he was going to see memories, Calla would make damn sure they weren't worth seeing.

He couldn't have Althea. He couldn't have her father, or her mother. But he could have Vanan.

She clenched her jaw through the pain and focused on only Vanan. Vanan. Vanan. Vanan.

* * *

 _Calla approached a wooden table. Before her were three weapons: a bow and arrow, a spear, and a sword. She had no idea what to pick. She let her hands roam over the wooden bow, feeling the knobs in the bark. Her fingers glanced over the steel sword, leaving prints from her hand as she went. She clutched the smooth spear briefly._

" _My father says men and women should only use bows. It's a long range weapon, so they won't get hurt," a male voice echoed from behind her._

 _She turned. Standing there was Vanan, his eyes peeking from underneath floppy brown hair. Her best friend since infancy...maybe her only friend since infancy._

" _He said I should pick the sword." Vanan walked past Calla, quickly grabbing the weapon from the table. "It's a man's tool." Vanan looked upon the shiny metal as it gleamed under the sunlight._

" _Then I'll take the bow," Calla said, picking up the bow and quiver. Silently, she determined to prove Vanan's father wrong. She would be better with a bow than any man with a sword._

 _They were older here. Vanan had cut his hair to a more manageable length. He dodged and darted between her, wielding the sword like it was an extension of himself. It was difficult for the young teenage Calla to keep up with him, she would just barely block his blade with her own before it touched her skin._

Think _, Calla thought to herself,_ You need to get yourself out of this one.

 _Vanan had the advantage in personal combat. He always had. But Calla was deadly with a bow. If she could just get a little distance…_

 _Vanan launched himself at Calla. His sword was overhead, about to come down on her body in a killing blow. This was it. Vanan was strong and bully-headed. He assumed he had the upperhand enough to make a bold move like that._

 _Calla side-stepped his blade and shuffled behind him. As Vanan regained his balance, Calla gained distance. Farther and farther until she turned back, thirty paces from her best friend. He had just started to face her when she lifted her sword and cast it into the air, aiming for Vanan._

 _It soared through the air, as weightless as a knife but with the force of a spear. Vanan didn't have any time to block. The sword caught the very edge of his sleeve, and sliced through it, finally landing behind him._

 _Vanan looked down at his shirt, back at Calla, and back at his shirt._

" _That's the fourth time this week my mother will have to mend this tunic, Calla."_

 _Calla put a hand on her hip. "Well, then don't let a long-range warrior get to long range."_

" _It's not my fault you've got some sort of magical power that lets you do things like_ that _," Vanan said._

" _No. But it is your fault that I picked a bow in the first place, Vanan."_

 _Vanan sauntered towards Calla, dropping his own sword off on a bench on the way. "If I really caused you to be so great with the bow, then I'm glad you listened to me. The tribe needs a chief as deadly as you are with that thing." He inched closer still._

 _Calla wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, and also approached Vanan. She remained quiet. They stopped within inches of each other._

" _I should go home. My mother wants me to go out with her to pick up some herbs," Calla said._

 _Vanan opened his mouth to say something, but instead fell silent. He had an intense look on his face, half-puzzled, half-terrified. He gave a small nod before clapping his hand on her shoulder._

" _To our time together," he said._

 _Calla repeated the action. "And to all our time apart."_

 _Calla removed her hand, but Vanan kept his clutched on her body. He squeezed gently, smiled, and removed his hand._

 _The whole rest of the night, Calla's skin had burned from the memory of his touch emblazoned on shoulder._

 _Calla was crying. Calla had the day to wander into the forest and forget what life was for a bit. She hadn't brought Vanan. It had been a while since she'd been able to cry - the walls were too thin in her home._

 _She'd traveled until the sun neared the center of the sky, eating only fruits along the way. When she neared the Basha Monument and the surrounding river, she hadn't stopped. Instead, she traveled just beyond the river, nearing a waterfall that originated from the mountain above._

 _There, she sat on a mossy log and listened to the rolling water cascading before her. It was loud enough to drown out the sobs._

" _Tears are for those who've stopped fighting!" she heard from behind her. Through the tears, the yelling had scared Calla. She jumped up from her seat and immediately pulled her bow off of her shoulder and threaded an arrow on it._

 _When she saw Vanan, she lowered the weapon. The moment of tears had ceased in the wave of adrenaline, but now, as she looked upon her best friend, her lip quivered. In a matter of seconds, Vanan was pressing her head to his chest and embracing her tightly._

 _She sobbed into him for what felt like an hour. Vanan's tunic was soaked through with slobber, snot, and tears, but Calla didn't care. She had to get it all out of her._

 _He held her tight until finally helping her back to a sunny clearing where the sounds of the waterfall weren't overpowering all else._

" _Calla. You're the strongest, most determined woman…" he stopped… "no,_ person _, I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You've kept me going through every training, every illness, every boring consul meeting. You are my best friend." He paused, as Calla looked at him with blurry vision. "Tears are for those who've stopped fighting...and I'm really glad you stopped fighting for a second."_

 _Calla's nose crinkled, a new wave of grief overcame her._

" _She's here, Calla. And when you're ready to fight again, she'll be fighting with you."_

 _They sat, intertwined in each other's arms, for a long time. Eventually, Calla's breathing steadied, her nose stopped dripping, and she swallowed a heavy glob of spit down her dry throat. Her emotions were haywire, and she felt bold. Maybe too bold._

 _Calla and Vanan shared their first kiss, drenched in the salty tears of heartache. When she pulled back, she didn't dare look at his face. Instead, she opted to hug him again. Though it hurt to speak, Calla whispered in a breathy, abrupt voice._

" _I love you, Vanan Eas."_

 _It didn't even take him a second._

" _I love you too, Calla Abolithe."_

* * *

When the man let go of her memories, Calla felt as though the hold on her body was lifted. Her head whipped backwards into the metal beneath her, sending one last shot of pain through her body.

"Calla Abolithe," the man said, retreating from her. "I am Kylo Ren. Welcome aboard the Star Destroyer, _Finalizer._ "

 ** _lol. I gave you some Vanan backstory before fully killing him off. He's honestly such a good guy. Such a shame he's dead... or is he?_**

 ** _(he is.)_**


End file.
